I Wanna Do Bad Things to You
by winkipop
Summary: I'm gonna be blunt: yes, it's Mitchell/Eric slash  or Mitchric, as I like to call it , yes, it WILL get hot and steamy and yes, there WILL be special guest stars :D Any questions?


**Title:**_I Wanna Do Bad Things to You (in a Seedy Dublin Alleyway)_

**Rating: **R18+

**Disclaimer: **No, I _don't_ own either Eric or Mitchell (God, do I _wish_ I owned Mitchell, yes please!), and contrary to popular belief I do not own both Monster Gods of Literature Messrs Wilde and Shakespeare either. It's not like I keep them in little jars and demand inspiration from them whenever I get writer's block or whatever… :P

**Summary: **May contain traces of man love, gross historical inaccuracies and appearances by Oscar Wilde and William Shakespeare.

He wasn't sure why he was here. Apparently his Viking ship shifted off the course of history and ended up in Dublin, 1559. Man, what a ride!

In full Viking regalia, Eric Northam trudged his way into the Ye Olde Pub (once known as Seamus O' Shannassy's Ye Olde Pub and Grille) thirsting for some ale after his long and arduous journey across the seas or whatever. Despite it being 1559, the old folk band on the stage playing music in the pub were playing 'Boys Are Back in Town' by Thin Lizzy, which I'm pretty sure wasn't released until the 1970s or 80s. Hmm…

Anyway, as Eric ordered a drink at the bar, two rather flamboyant patrons came to stand beside him, looking rather insignificant in comparison to the great big Viking with his metal helmet and strong metal armour tight against his smooth Swedish chest of steel (that does _not _sparkle, thank you very much).

"Oh my!" trilled Oscar, Ireland's first screaming queen. "Do my eyes deceive me or is this man not but a Nordic delight for my eyes?"

"'Tis!" cried Shakespeare, more incredibly camp than his sonnets and plays let on.

Eric, of course, heard every word, smirking to himself. "I'm glad you're so impressed," he murmured back to the swooning men beside him. "Maybe this will impress you, too…" His eyes suddenly turned sinister as he proceeded to reveal a pair of fangs protruding from his mouth.

Both Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare were taken aback, hands on hearts, nay, shitting thyselves.

"Oh!" Oscar breathed. "He is, too, a creature of the night!"

"Just as _he_ over there," Shakespeare added, pointing over to the other side of the Ye Olde Pub. "He's so dark and brooding and _dangerous!'_

Eric looked over and noticed a rather handsome man sitting in the corner that begun to tickle his fancy. He had the dreamiest blue eyes that reminded him of all those lonely days and nights spent at sea, a soft, creamy complexion and black curls he longed to run his fingers through. He could feel the vamp vibes reeking off of this hot young prospect. Eric likey _very_ much.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, leaving Oscar and Shakespeare behind as he zeroed in on his prey, both Oscar and Shakespeare squeeing in delight. Well, squeeing as you did back in 1559, which I guess goes like '_thy squee_ or _yea verily, I squee!_' or something.

Eric made his way to the young vampire in disguise over in the corner nursing his own flagon of ale. He, too, peered over at Eric, raising a suspicious brow and wondering what this Viking's deal was and weather the Swedish actually did say '_de flurgen flurgen_!' a lot.

"So…" Eric purred as he stood over the other tall, dark and handsome vampire. "I'm gonna make this short: I know what you are. I've been away at sea for far too long and have already fucked and eaten all my fellow Vikings. You're gonna meet me out back and I'm gonna enjoy the hell out of myself for the first time in forever on land. You with me?"

Mitchell was rather dumbstruck with such a raunchy request, yet as his eyes travelling over the Viking's shiny armour and rippling biceps, he wasn't so sure. "And what if I say no?" he teased in his soft Irish drawl.

Eric smirked. "I didn't _say_ it was a choice," he said.

Without another word, Eric was already dragging Mitchell outside in the chilly Dublin air, finding a place behind the pub in the alleyway, about to get him some fellow vampire strange!

Eric immediately shoved Mitchell up against the stone wall, forcing his lips upon his in a feverish yet hungry kiss before letting loose with his tongue. Those fangs of his then got to work and bit sharply into his neck, hungrily licking up the rich blood springing from his wound. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Mitchell liked this more than he should as he too took a bite, moaning like a typical Celtic wench on a regular Tuesday. He clawed at the red-blooded Viking's shoulders as Eric reached down and released Mitchell from his pantaloons. Eric then turned him around, Mitchell's hands against the wall as he prepared himself for the monstrous force of this Viking love god. Soon enough, Mitchell's cries could be heard throughout the streets and beyond…

Alas, Eric the virile Viking had to leave the very next day to hark back to the rough and choppy seas, farewelling Mitchell with a special bite he would _never_ forget.

_Fin_

**NB: Yes, I'm fully aware Mitchell didn't become a vampire till WWI, so no hate mail, this is just a **_**joke**_**! Call it an AU interpretation, if you will :D**


End file.
